It’s hard for me to love other people. It’s even harder for me to love myself.
I was driving home from work Monday evening and I had just angrily hung up the phone. A woman had called me from a company that did some work at my house a few years ago. I didn’t like the way the company was handling its business with me, but it was nothing personal with the woman.
The thing that annoyed me wasn’t her fault. She was just reading a script. She was doing her job. But I was in a bad mood — and I took out my frustrations on her.
I wasn’t nasty or rude, but I certainly wasn’t kind or loving.
As I drove the rest of the way down I-459 toward home, I stewed in my irritation, but my annoyance quickly turned toward myself. I wasn’t upset with that woman or her company.
I lectured myself about being a hypocrite. I berated myself about my unwillingness to live up to my values when it wasn’t convenient — when I wasn’t in the right mood.

Laughing at the ‘rapture cult’? Those who believe in the state are no different
UPDATE: Two weeks after surgery, I’m better; thanks for asking
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Oliver, the furball who taught me to love cats
FRIDAY FUNNIES
If we keep waiting for perfection, we’ll always keep traveling alone
Shock merger: Democrats, GOP to join in creating new ‘super party’
The world becomes magical when the right person says, ‘I love you’
There are three kinds of lonely — and I don’t know which this is
To think clearly, turn off the tube: Your television is not your friend